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Two things happened in this past week which have thrown into sharp relief the complicated relationship that feminists, and perhaps women in general, have with the world. First, I participated in a discussion about the value or of beauty pageants, and then my best friend got married.
Two things happened in this past week which have thrown into sharp relief the complicated relationship that feminists, and perhaps women in general, have with the world. First, I participated in a discussion about the value or of beauty pageants, and then my best friend got married.
The age-old arguments about how beauty pageants and competitions whose criteria are directly linked to women’s physical beauty are degrading to women abound. Women are more than simply their outer shells; intellectual ability is as important as what one looks like; real beauty comes from within; strutting on a catwalk is akin to a cattle parade … the list is endless, and justified.
The concept of beauty is a contested one. Contemporary debates centre around dominant notions of beauty which, many argue are eurocentric and western in origin, excluding the values held in high regard by those outside of this culture. African women in particular have bemoaned the focus on slim lithe bodies, delicately sculptured features and creamy complexions. After all, what does the quantity of melanin in our bodies have to do with beauty?
We have raged against the constructed images fed to us through the media about what we should look like, what we should wear, and how we should behave. Yet at the same time, we ourselves have consumed these very images and have unconsciously begun to use these standards to measure our own worth. The beauty industry generates millions of dollars each year with new products promising to work miracles and even ‘restore natural beauty’ – available only to those who have the means to step under the florescent lighting of cosmetic counters in shopping malls and spend hard earned money on ‘rejuvenating cream’.
Yet despite having the financial means to obtain this beauty in a bottle, a friend adamantly refuses to use any products whose advertising doesn’t feature black women. She makes the point that the token black face is not enough – she is looking for a face, and a body that is representative of her reality: full lips, voluptuous hips and a bottom which does not defy gravity and which would fail the pencil test dismally.
She celebrated the rise of the ‘boodylicious’ phenomena that saw curves and buttocks being the new ‘in thing’ and commented on how bizarre it was that women would want to get implants – on hips and bums no less – to achieve a perfect body. What ever happened to liposuction?
Now for the contradiction.
While my friend and I wax lyrical about the pitfalls of subscribing to this problematic and contested notion of beauty we also spend a fair amount of time talking about anti-frizz and moisturising hair products, non-chip fast-drying nail polish and the benefits of using a proper clarifying lotion.
Just before the wedding, when my best friend confirmed an appointment at the make-up artist I spent sleepless nights trying to reconcile my feminist consciousness with the need to make her wedding the ‘perfect day’. (The problematics of this is the subject of an entirely different column). I had visions of an unrecognisable creature staring back at me through a mirror with heavily mascared eyelashes and lips dripping with diamante lipgloss. My feminist self fled into a corner, horrified at the thought …
I was also troubled by what I perceived as hypocrisy – she who would at the drop of a hat launch into a tirade against the sexist advertising of cosmetic houses which reinforced ideas that our physical beauty is intricately linked to our self worth and value to society, being heavily made up and participating in the patriarchal ritual of marriage! What would my sistah feminists think!?
Yet as we moved from the hair salon to the make up artist and I saw what I could only describe as my friend’s pure delight, my doubts subsided. She was getting married to the man she loved and had asked me to share this with her. Whether or not I had my face painted, or my hair coiffed I was part of something that had a special meaning for a woman whom I’ve known for 15 years, my friend.
So when the painted creature looked back at me through the mirror and I thought ‘My goodness, is that me … I look rather nice’, I smiled and acknowledged that as a woman, my relationship to the world is extremely complex. Too complex in fact to be simply black and white.
As we celebrate women’s month in South Africa and we recall and acknowledge the huge contributions made by women, lets also celebrate our complexity, tenacity and diversity.
Janine Moolman is the editor of Amalungelo, a bi-monthly gender justice barometer published by Gender Links.